


my blood is singing with your voice

by Pandir



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Anders is struggling with the aftermath of their merging, Corpse kisses, Other, Possession, Self-Doubt, Spirit Shenanigans, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 21:24:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5264123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandir/pseuds/Pandir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justice is purposeless without a cause to fight for. Anders is nothing but an apostate on the run, in no position to shake the foundations of the Chantry. </p><p>How could Anders refuse?<br/><i>How could Anders resist?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	my blood is singing with your voice

**Author's Note:**

> This is me being fashionably late to the Goretober meme.  
> Prompt: Possession/Corruption
> 
> Listened to Halsey's Haunting on constant repeat.

It had been Justice who was certain that together they could achieve what they alone could not. And in the end, Anders did not hesitate.

They had grown to be friends on their journey. Justice was the one Anders could confide in and who understood his hurt and anger, who believed Anders could do more and was willing to help. And how could Anders refuse the spirit’s offer? The least Anders could do in exchange for Justice’s support was offer himself as a host to the spirit who was stranded alone among mortals, to offer Justice company and purpose, just as Justice had done for him.

Anders would later often wonder if it had really been such an act of kindness, or if it had been his own desire that had given him the resolve to go through with it in the end.

*

When Anders had kissed his friend on the dead, cold lips, Anders had meant it as nothing but a slightly teasing, but altogether innocent gesture of affection, a very human impulse of easing the spirit’s loss through physical closeness. So he had kissed the spirit, despite the rotting corpse that was Justice’s body, but because Justice's words and presence were comfort. Because as harsh as the spirit’s words could be, Justice sympathized. Because Justice, too, was lonely.

Yet to Anders’ own surprise, touching the flesh of the rotting lips was not as revolting as expected. It was as if he could taste a spark of something more on them, a certain warmth that he could not feel with his skin, but that resonated deep inside of him, and Anders found himself pressing his mouth on Justice’s unmoving flesh, craving the fleeting connection and drinking it in like a drowning man desperate for air in his lungs.

Justice must have sensed the turmoil inside of him, and when the cold hand touched his chest, Anders felt something otherwordly and eternal reaching through his flesh and bones, stirring at his very essence. And then he could see it as he felt it within him, burning so brightly it had to be scorching him from the inside. His entire body was alight, as the magic in his body responded to the pure force that was flowing through him, singing through the fibres of flesh, and Anders thought in a strange moment of clarity, that this was what it had to be like if raw lyrium were running through his veins.

He made a helpless noise, yet was utterly unable to let go, afraid to have the spirit’s touch fade out of him again, so he dug his fingers into the bony hand on his chest and let his head sink to Justice’s shoulder. It was then that Anders understood that he truly saw the spirit for what it was, not a sunken corpse, not a man in an armor, but a blinding fire, brighter than the sun, that filled him with a white searing light that allowed no shadows.

When Justice withdrew, fading from within him, Anders felt so distinctly less, so strangely empty, he was almost aching physically. Massaging his chest with the palm of his hand, he still saw an echo of the bright fire burned into his eyelids.

The truth was that Anders did want nothing more than for mages to be able to to grow up whole and unbroken, to live free from persecution and the constant threat of the Templars' swords, but he also craved this clarity that was beyond doubt and fear, and the overwhelming potency that had been so hot in his veins. What Justice offered him was strength so much greater than his, the power to withstand, to not be dragged back, kicking and screaming, and what was more, to save, to protect, to never lose again.

How could he have resisted?

*

It had been strange at first, disorienting even. But then there was this clarity, blinding, all-encompassing, and the fire right beneath his skin, rising from deep within and washing over him with righteous wrath. And Anders knew he would run no more.

 

The certainty quickly dissolved into confusion and anxiousness when the heat died inside him that had overcome him like a frenzy, and Anders fled the scorched camp, littered with torn corpses and burned flesh.

There was a sickening, coppery taste in his mouth as he stumbled through the woods, one hand clenched around his staff, the other pressed on the flesh wound at his side that was still seeping blood, warm and alarming, his mind was clouded in chaos. His skin felt as if it was smoldering beneath the torn fabric, and Anders half-wondered about the lack of pain, before these thoughts were washed away by the conviction that this should be nothing to slow his steps.

As he went on, his head was light, yet his feet were heavy despite his magic thrumming still in his blood.

When he finally found an empty barn, a place to rest his weary limbs at least for a short while, Anders carefully took off the coat of his armor to inspect his wounds. With trembling fingers he traced the white scars on his skin, the remnants of gashes that had healed without any conscious effort, without him exerting any magic on his own volition. Healing himself was a difficult task that took focus and care, and even though Anders had been forced to tend his own wounds before, this was powerful healing beyond his abilities. Yet the scars were oddly crude and uneven beneath his fingers, as if the flesh had been knitted together haphazardly and forced to mend in ways it would not on its own terms.

Anders felt fatigue overcoming him, a weariness beyond exhaustion, and he sank back into the hay.

There was no knowing what he had done, what _they_ had done, or how he had survived it. There was only one thing he was certain of. None of them was as they had been before, and nothing would ever be the same.

He found himself wishing for Justice to be by his side again, to be able talk to his friend about his doubts. Even though his mind was filled with impressions and thoughts that were different and unknown, Anders could not help but feel that he was very much on his own again. He should never have wished for this overwhelming fire to burn within him. How could he have been so certain this was what he wanted? How could he ever hope to contain this unbridled force that was boiling right beneath his skin?

But now the damage was done, and all he had was nagging doubts.

Yet there was nothing he could do, and he was tired beyond words, so Anders put his armor back on with some effort and wrapped his arms about himself, resting his head on them to find some sleep at last.

 

When Anders dozed off, his dreams were strange, barely dreams at all. It was just him, alone, and all about him was filled with whiteness, a searing light that did not burn, and it was shifting, changing about him, yet at the same time so beautifully distinct and clear.

Untouchable it seemed and yet he was infused with it, and when it engulfed him, it had been within him all along, vast and inconceivable, but so familiar still. 

It was then that he first understood that Justice was within him, that he was Anders and Justice both, and that Justice's fire was his own resolve.

As Anders vaguely wondered whether he truly was sleeping, he felt their joint purpose burn fiercely inside his chest, like an inextinguishable flame, clear, bright and eternal.


End file.
